Dark, Still, Nothing
by BrynnH87
Summary: Mucking about with alien technology in a completely different galaxy, something is bound to go horribly and possibly permanently wrong, sooner or later.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Thanks to PunkyRabbit, my beta, who pointed out some basic flaws with some of the science involved (something about sodium/potassium pumps, etc). I have absolutely NO medical knowledge, so I ask that you suspend your disbelief just a little. Alien devices might affect the human body in different than normal ways, who knows? Go with me here! grin

Dark, Still, Nothing

Part 1

He awoke to nothing! No sounds, no sight. Absolute silence and darkness. Worse, when he tried to bring his hand to his face (hoping against hope that his eyes were just bandaged and his environment was just quiet), he found that he couldn't even move. He couldn't move his arm, twitch a finger or even budge an eyelid. Now he wasn't even sure his eyes were open! He systematically tried every muscle in his body. Nothing! He tried to speak, but he couldn't open his mouth or move his tongue. He couldn't tell if he was making any sound at all.

Trying (without much success) to keep from panicking, he let his mind wander back to the last thing he remembered.

He had been in his quarters when Rodney came barging in, excited about something.

"John! I found one!" The scientist blurted.

"Found what?" lt had been a long, boring week filled with paperwork, and John wasn't really in the mood for a game of twenty questions.

"A ZedPM!" Rodney answered. "I found another planet in the Ancient database. It's interesting, really! It was off by itself, in a completely different file than you might expect. I found an obscure reference to it in some other work I was doing, but when I tried to track it down, it got complicated. I had to…"

"Rodney!" John interrupted. "Where's the ZPM?"

"MXJ-396," Rodney answered proudly, "but let me tell you about the search. I had to…"

John was out of the room and gone down the hall before Rodney could finish his story. The scientist thought about running after his team leader, but decided against it.

"Oh well," he said to an empty room. "We'll have plenty of time on the planet. I'll tell him then." He decided to meet John in Elizabeth's office. On second thought, maybe Dr. Weir would like to know how he had engaged in a brilliant game of hide and seek to find this planet.

John peeked his head into Elizabeth's office. "Hey, you busy?"

"Paperwork!" Dr. Weir responded as she pushed away the offending pile of papers, "It can definitely wait." Glad for the interruption, she leaned back in her chair and continued, "What's on your mind John?"

"Rodney says he's found a ZPM."

"Where _is_ Rodney? I would have thought he'd have liked to share this discovery himself."

"I'm sure he'll be here."

Right on cue, Rodney all but jogged into the office. "Did John tell you?"

"A ZPM, Rodney!" Elizabeth confirmed. "That would be wonderful! Why didn't we find this planet before?"

"Well, we're uncovering new parts of the database all the time, but this was a pretty special case…" Rodney stopped, expecting an interruption from one of the listeners, but when none came, the scientist continued. "I found a mention of this planet when I was researching one of my other projects, but when I went to look for a file on the planet itself, I found that not only was the file completely segregated from the rest of the database, but it had been totally erased!"

"The whole file?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah. It was strange," Rodney picked up the story. "Of course, it was no match for me. I rewrote the code to find the deleted items and came up with enough of the file to know there's a ZedPM there…well, at least there _was_ 10,000 years ago, and if the planet is as remote as it seems from what little information I could retrieve, then it should still be there."

"You're saying 'enough of the file' and 'what little information'," Elizabeth stated, concern in her voice, "You can't retrieve the whole file?"

"Well, no," Rodney's voice bordered on indignant, "Not yet. I'll keep trying if you want, but some of this data is pretty corrupted. Remember, I'm trying to piece together a file that was deleted ten _millennia_ ago. It _should_ be impossible. For anyone else, it _would _be impossible. If you didn't have me, you wouldn't even know about…"

"Yes, Rodney," John interrupted this time, "We all know you're brilliant and we're lucky to have you." John watched a smug smile creep onto the scientist's face, Rodney having entirely missed the sarcasm of the statement. The major shook his head minutely and continued, "but without all the data, we're all but flying blind, here."

"It's more information than we've had for _some_ planets we've visited," Rodney defended his position.

"Maybe, but do we know if there are any threats there? Do we know if the ZPM is still there? Do we even know why the Ancients deleted the file in the first place?"

Rodney was becoming peeved. "No, no, and no. But we've been to planets before and didn't know about all the threats we'd find there, and we've been to planets known to have ZedPM's and still came away with nothing. It wouldn't be the first time."

"That last question is a pretty big concern, Rodney," Elizabeth put in.

"Yeah," John added, "for all we know, the Ancients deleted the file because the planet was overrun with Wraith or the atmosphere had been completely poisoned, or the whole place was consumed by planetary wide volcanoes or something."

Rodney finally lost it. "And for all we know it could have been deleted by accident, or to keep the knowledge from anyone who overtook Atlantis."

John and Elizabeth both looked unconvinced, so Rodney continued, "Look, the MALP will tell us if there are Wraith there or if the air is poisoned or anything. And, if the gate was consumed by a volcano, it simply won't open." The scientist's expression made it clear that he felt he should not have to address these completely outlandish objections. "What do we have to lose? What's the worst that could happen?"

John brought his hand up and started ticking off points, "We could be killed by Wraith; we could be _captured_ by the Wraith and fed on later; we could be killed by poisonous gases that the MALP doesn't know to look for; we could…"

"Alright, alright," Rodney was really worked up now. "But we take those chances every time we step through the gate. Pardon me if I thought you'd be interested in a planet with a ZedPM!"

"A planet that _might_ have a ZPM." John loved winding Rodney up.

Elizabeth interrupted his fun. "Okay, Rodney. Work on it a little longer. Get me _all_ the data you can possibly recover, then we'll go from there."

"But…" Rodney started.

"It's been there for 10,000 years …"

"_If _it's still there!" John slipped in one more comment.

"…so I don't think it will go anywhere if we use a little caution here, Rodney," Elizabeth finished.

"I suppose, but…" Rodney cut himself off when he saw Dr. Weir's face. That was the look that said, 'my mind is made up' so McKay just agreed to continue his search and left to get to it.

After two weeks of searching, Rodney declared himself finished.

"Look, the rest of this stuff is so degraded, I'm lucky if I can get a 1 and a 0 per page of code. That's it! That's the best I can do!"

"I've read your report, Rodney," Elizabeth answered patiently.

"Me too," John agreed.

"There doesn't seem to be any obvious threat in what you've recovered, but…" Weir continued.

"_I _still want to know why the Ancients deleted any mention of this planet." John input. "My gut says that can't be because of anything good."

"Do you feel that the danger is too great to proceed with this mission?" Elizabeth was willing to cede to John's threat assessment.

"There's nothing I can put my finger on to warrant passing up the chance of a ZPM." John finally answered, after some obvious self-deliberation. "We can go. I'd just want to take a military team with us, and we'll be on our guard."

With that, Elizabeth made the decision that the mission was on, and planned for a briefing with John's entire team and the security unit.

The planet was nondescript, as far as John could tell. There was certainly nothing obvious to explain why the Ancients would wipe it from the database.

The area around the stargate was covered in ruins and Rodney assured them they'd find the ZPM. There was an energy signature consistent with a powered ZPM, but for some reason, it was defused and appeared to be coming from everywhere at once. There would be no way to track it using their own technology.

There were no life signs anywhere, but Sheppard still had a bad feeling about this and refused to let down his guard, much to Rodney's annoyance (which was just a side benefit as far as John was concerned).

"Will you just relax a little?" Rodney pleaded, "We have the whole planet to ourselves. Nobody's going to jump out at us from behind a column." But then Rodney looked around, just to make sure.

Building after building showed signs of having once had great technology, but they had long since been stripped of anything useful – whether by the Ancients themselves or by other cultures seeking technology, no one could tell.

They had been there for about an hour and had found nothing of interest, but then John himself made a fateful discovery. He had long since lost count of just how many buildings his team had searched and was becoming more and more willing to bet that the ruins went on forever, when he passed by the entrance of an unassuming alcove. He had seen a few alcoves in some of the other buildings, but they had been off the main rooms and much wider. This was a narrow opening in the wall off a side corridor.

He slipped inside the closet sized hole and found, to his amazement, a dais with an opening on the top that looked a lot like the housing of a ZPM.

"Rodney," he called on his comm. "I might have found something." He had left the scientist in the main room when he had decided to check out the corridor. He had been getting bored and thought that the long hallway offered the opportunity to stretch his legs, if nothing else.

While he was waiting for Rodney to get there, he depressed the top of the dais to release the ZPM. The thought that it might somehow be booby-trapped came a split second too late as he was engulfed in a flash of light and slammed against the opposite wall of the hallway.

_After that, he remembered nothing until he woke up here – wherever 'here' was – in total darkness and silence, unable to move. Losing his fight with panic, he tried once again to speak, or move or anything. He had to make someone hear him. He had to find a way to get some answers._

"Carson! I think he's awake!" Rodney's concerned voice carried across the infirmary.

The doctor hurried to John's bedside. The patient was making a low keening noise but otherwise seemed completely still – too still. Carson lifted uncooperative lids to peer at the unresponsive eyes below. He shone a light in each eye, but, as had happened each time he had done this since John had been brought in, not even the pupils reacted. The doctor picked up his patient's hand.

"Major, can you hear me?"

John gave no sign of having heard the doctor, but continued the soft whining.

"Why is he doing that?" Rodney asked anxiously.

"I don't know, Rodney. I just got here myself." Carson tried not to be short with the worried man, but after hours of nervous questions, the doctor's patience was beginning to wear thin. "He might be in pain. Or perhaps he's trying to talk. I just don't know yet."

Carson squeezed John's hand, but there was no response. "Major Sheppard, I need you to squeeze my hand, now." The doctor said loudly and waited in vain for any movement. He turned to Rodney to head off the oncoming question. "I don't know if he doesn't understand what I want him to do; or if he just can't hear me."

Rodney purposely knocked off a metal tray from a nearby table. The resulting clang startled Carson and three nurses, but there was absolutely no reaction from Sheppard. "I guess that answers _that_ question," Rodney was becoming a little panicked on his friend's behalf. "Carson, what did that damned artifact _do_ to him?"

"I don't know yet, Rodney." Carson tried to stay calm. "None of the tests I've already done have given me any clue about what's going on; and we don't know enough about the artifact to even know what it was _supposed_ to do. I'm in the dark as much as you are, right now."

As Carson rushed off to get ready for some more tests, Rodney settled in beside the major's bed and clasped onto his friend's hand. "John, I know you can't hear me. I don't know if you can even feel me squeezing your hand. But I'm here. I can't imagine what this is like for you. But I want you to know that we're working on the problem. We're going to get you out of this. It won't be like this forever. You have my word." McKay settled their joined hands on John's bed and hoped to hell he hadn't just lied to his friend.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

As Rodney sat by the major's bedside, his thoughts returned to what had happened on the planet.

John had wondered off down a hallway somewhere while Rodney, himself, was studying the various nooks and crannies he found in the main room. Then his com came to life with John's voice, "Rodney, I might have found something."

The scientist headed down the corridor he thought he had seen John go down, just in time to see a brilliant light and a body – presumably John's – fly across the hall, pound into the wall and fall apparently lifelessly to the floor.

Rodney rushed to his friend's side and checked for a pulse. Thankfully, there _was_ one, but it seemed to be getting slower by the second, and one look at John's chest told Rodney that his team-leader was barely breathing.

"Help!" The scientist felt himself succumbing to panic. "Ronon, Teyla!" John was the one that handled these kinds of situations well. Rodney was at a loss since it was John who had been hurt.

The rest of Sheppard's team arrived almost instantaneously. Ronon took one look at John, scooped the man up and headed out of the building – presumably toward the gate – leaving Teyla to take charge of the situation with everyone else.

Ronon knew, intellectually, that he shouldn't have picked up his friend until he was sure there wasn't any back injury; but he also knew that there was no help to be had on the planet. John's breathing seemed to be slowing by the moment and Ronon's only thought was to get him back to Atlantis. He didn't worry about the rest of the team. He knew they would follow. As he left the corridor, he had heard Teyla call the two security guards who had been stationed at the gate and tell them to radio ahead to call for a med team. The gate was open when Ronon got there and he stepped through, knowing without looking that Teyla had gathered Rodney and the two guards who had been in the building with them and was approaching the gate, not that far behind Ronon.

Carson and his med team met Ronon and John in the gate-room. Elizabeth and other personnel looked on as Ronon quickly placed John on the gurney and stepped back – though he refused to go too far – to allow the team to work on his friend.

Carson took John's pulse and immediately ordered the paddles. Ronon watched, dumbfounded, while Carson's team worked to get his friend's heart to beat again. After what seemed like an eternity, Carson told his team to move out, and one of the nurses ran alongside the gurney forcing oxygen into John's lungs.

By the time John and the med team had disappeared from view, Rodney, Teyla and the four guards hurried through the gate.

"How's John?" Rodney tried to catch his breath. He had undoubtedly run to the gate.

"They took him to the infirmary," Ronon couldn't bear to tell the man that Sheppard's heart had actually stopped. They had it started again now, and he was under Carson's care. The former runner didn't feel Rodney had any need to know.

Carson performed test after test, trying to find out what happened to the major. So far, no test yielded anything useful. John was still unconscious, and as of now, vent dependant. He hadn't been breathing when they first brought him back and he showed no signs of wanting to start again anytime soon. There was nothing obviously wrong with his lungs; they just didn't work. Carson was hoping that they'd take over from the ventilator at some point. Examining John further, Carson had found that there were no obvious signs of brain damage, in fact, electrical activity in the brain was actually accelerated everywhere, which worried Carson, but he had no idea what it might mean for John in the long run. There was nothing physically wrong with Sheppard's heart, but it hadn't been beating by the time the patient got to Atlantis. Now that they'd restarted it, it seemed to be keeping an acceptable rhythm on its own. Carson passed on these facts to all interested parties, but he really had no idea of what a long term prognosis might be.

For John's team, the next several hours were spent in – or just outside of – the infirmary. Ronon stayed at John's bed-side until he couldn't sit any longer, and he went to the gym to try to work off some of the frustration. Rodney had been torn between wanting to be at John's bedside, and wanting to be on the planet figuring out what the artifact was and what it had done to his friend. Judging from the quick look that Rodney had gotten of it as they rushed out behind Ronon , it _looked_ like a normal ZedPM. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why it acted the way it did, let alone what it actually _did_ to his friend. Ultimately, Elizabeth made the decision for him. She told him that she thought he was far too distracted right now to do his best job on the planet, so she wanted him to stay with John, for now, so that he wouldn't wake up alone.

The rest of the daylight hours ticked by and John had finally begun breathing on his own again, though still not as strongly as Carson would like. The ventilator tube had been removed and an oxygen mask had been placed over the patient's face. The doctor kept a close eye on John's oxygen saturations, and stood ready to replace the tube if necessary. The fact that John's lungs were responding on their own again gave him hope that the rest of the problems this artifact had caused, might clear up on their own, even though they wouldn't really know the extent of the problems until the patient woke up.

Ronon had come back to the infirmary sometime around dusk and Teyla had been in and out, trying to keep abreast of any news from the planet. Rodney hadn't left, much to Carson's consternation. He had questioned every test Carson had done, every procedure performed, and asked over and over when John would wake up. Carson had no answers, and being asked the same questions repeatedly was getting on his nerves. So, both the doctor and the scientist were relieved when John showed signs of waking up. The relief was short-lived since it didn't take long to find out that the major was still quite unresponsive. Carson took off to start more tests suggested by this latest development; they needed to find out if the patient was able to hear, see, feel. Carson knew there were two possible truths here. Either the major was completely brain damaged and didn't know what was going on well enough to even follow simple commands or reflexively squeeze a hand that was squeezing his, or the man was aware inside a body that would just not respond. For an active man like the major, the last scenario would have to be utter hell. The doctor didn't know if it would be worse or better if Sheppard's brain was somehow affected and he just wasn't aware at all. Beckett hoped against hope that whatever the case, it might just be temporary and would improve on its own as the lungs seemed to have. He knew that was a long shot, but he just had to hope.

Rodney was brought out of his ruminations when the sound John had been making seemed to get louder and sound even more desperate and miserable than it had before.

"John," Rodney squeezed his friend's hand, "I'm here. You're in the infirmary. You're going to be alright." There was no response.

John tried even harder to be heard. He couldn't tell if he was making any noise or not. He couldn't tell if he was alone, or if someone was there and he just couldn't tell. He was becoming terrified. What if he was like this forever…trapped inside his own body with no way to communicate, no way to tell where he was or what was being done to him, no way to tell who might be with him or if he was alone. Somewhere along the line, sleep thankfully claimed him again.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Thanks to 'J loves JS' for pointing out to me that this story is AU since, by the time Ronon got there, John was a Colonel. I don't supposed you'd believe that I MEANT to do it that way and that it wasn't just a mistake? Yeah, I didn't think so. Anyway, thanks 'J loves JS' for pointing it out, and so, for the record, this is definitely AU.

Part 3

Not even fully aware that he had fallen asleep, John woke again to silence and darkness, unable to move. Sleep suddenly seemed like a much better idea. Anytime he was awake and forced to face the proposition of being trapped like this forever, he had to fight panic. He suddenly realized that he actually _could _panic and no one would be the wiser. It's not like his face would show it or that he would thrash around. He certainly couldn't scream. This panicked him even more so that he actually _tried_ to scream, just to see if the same thing happened – which is to say 'nothing' as far as he could tell.

He tried screaming a second time and noticed that he _could_ actually feel a little buzz in his throat. This was new. He hadn't been able to feel anything last time (or had he just been too panicked last time to notice). He tried just to talk, to call for the doctor. As far as he could tell, his lips and tongue still couldn't move and he noticed that when he tried for a normal volume, he couldn't feel the sensation in his throat. He tried to yell for the doctor and felt the 'buzz' again. '_Well,' _he thought, '_that was certainly __**something**__.' _Not enough, but better than it was before.

This was the first time awake that he was really coherent, and not just reacting to the situation, so it occurred to him that if he could feel something new in his throat, maybe he could feel something elsewhere as well. He systematically tried to move – and therefore concentrated on – each body part in turn. He toes wouldn't move, as far as he could tell. If they did, he didn't feel it. Legs – nothing; trunk – nada; arms – not moving; hands – no luck. But wait, when John concentrated on first one hand then the next, he noticed one seemed warmer, and was that weight he could feel? Right hand – warm, with something weighing it down; left hand – cold, with no weight.

John went back over his body. Could he feel hot and cold anyplace else? His face seemed a little cold, like his left hand, and the rest of his body was warmer. '_Probably covered with a blanket,' _John thought. His legs were warm too, so he probably was not just covered with a jacket. '_Okay,' _he reasoned, '_either someone covered me with a blanket from the first aid kit, and I'm still on the planet, probably with my team, or whichever of my team that didn't go to get help; or, I'm in the infirmary. Actually, there's a third option. I'm in my own bed and this is all just a __**really**__ bad dream.'_ The major consciously tried to wake up, tried to move, tried to speak. Now that he knew it was a dream, he should be able to wake up, right?

No luck. John was still in the same predicament as he had been a minute ago. '_So much for door number three,' _He thought. '_Okay, back to analyzing. Why the difference in temperature on the two hands. Somone is holding the right one? Man, I hope I'm in the infirmary and it's one of those cute nurses. If I'm still on the planet, it's probably Teyla.' _John thought of the possibility of it being Ronon and really wished he could laugh. '_Maybe Rodney,' _Sheppard continued his internal monologue, '_He has been known to get more touchy-feely when someone close to him was injured. Okay, granted, not very often. He's more likely to be off trying to figure this out. Ronon's probably out looking for something to shoot! That brings me back to Teyla.' _John tried with all his might to yell for Teyla (yelling being the only way he could feel himself actually making noise). He couldn't feel his mouth co-operating, so John was pretty sure that the word 'Teyla' didn't make it out, but if he could feel that he was making noise, the person holding his hand should be able to hear him.

An unwelcomed thought crossed his mind. What if the warmth and pressure wasn't someone holding his hand? What if he had just landed with his right arm under him and the warmth and weight was merely his own body? For that matter, what if the warmth he felt on the rest of his body wasn't a blanket but a pile of rocks from where the millennia's old building had collapsed on top of him? What if there wasn't only no one holding his hand, but no one around at all?

He screamed again!

Carson crossed the room to go to John's bedside when he heard the major making noise. He sat at his patient's beside and took the man's hand.

"Major, can you hear me?" Carson waited, hoping that John would answer this time. He kept talking now that the other man had stopped his odd whining/humming sound. Hoping that was an indication that the major had just been calling for someone and now knew someone was there. "Can you make that sound of yours again, Major? To let me know you hear me?" Nothing at first, but moments later John did, indeed, make another noise. Carson wished he could honestly believe that it was in response to his request, but it happened just enough later that it was more likely coincidental.

His thoughts were interrupted when Elizabeth entered the infirmary. "How is he Carson?"

"No change, really," Carson answered reluctantly. He wished he had better news to report.

"Does he make that noise often?" Elizabeth noticed John's vocalizing.

"Off and on," the doctor answered. "I really don't know what to make of it. It isn't definitively connected to anything in the environment. He makes them in the absence of notable stimuli as well as in the presence. I _hope_ it doesn't mean he's in terrible pain, but I don't want to pump him full of drugs until I know what's going on with his brain chemistry."

Elizabeth gave a nod, encouraging the doctor to continue. That was another reason she'd come down, hoping that the results of Beckett's latest round of tests had come back. The doctor stood and crossed to the nearby computer, loaded up John's latest results and started to explain. "One of these latest tests showed something strange with John's brain chemistry. Chemicals used by the neuro-receptors are all practically non-existent, and the electrical pulses in his brain are still off the chart. It's like his brain is connected to a live wire and the active electricity is burning out all the neuro-receptors so they just don't work at all."

While Carson had been talking, Elizabeth sat in the vacated chair beside John's bed and took the man's hand, while watching the monitor Carson gestured toward. "What does that mean for John?"

"I really don't know for sure, Elizabeth. I can't imagine, with readings like this, that _any_ environmental stimuli are getting in. He certainly doesn't seem to _react_ to any stimuli. His pupils don't even react to light."

Elizabeth was shocked by that. The only thing _she_ could think of that would cause no pupil response would be blindness or brain damage. Given everything else Carson was saying, she was leaning toward the latter, and she didn't like it one bit. "Does that mean he's brain damaged?"

"Functionally? Right now, at least?" Carson didn't want to give a definite answer one way or the other, "Yes, I guess so, to some degree…in that his brain isn't working the way it's supposed to. He doesn't seem to be processing anything." The doctor watched Weir's face fall and hurried with the small bit of encouraging news. "Comparing this latest scan to the one we took when he was first brought in, though, _does_ show some improvement." He split the screen and showed both scans, the left side showing the first scan, right at the beginning of this mess; the right showing the most current.

Try as she might, Elizabeth couldn't see much difference. Both showed a brain alight with electrical activity. "Carson, I don't…"

"Oh yes, sorry," Carson stepped in to interpret. "There's not _much_ difference, but this last scan shows just a _little_ bit less uncontrolled electricity…here…and …. here."

Once it was pointed out, Elizabeth still had to really concentrate to see the difference. She just had to accept that it was there and that Carson thought (or at least hoped) it was significant.

She squeezed the stricken man's hand, but addressed Carson, "So he can't feel this? Can't hear us?"

"I don't think so," Beckett saw Weir's face fall and quickly continued, "but I think we should continue to _try_ to get through to him…it can't hurt."

"Doctor, even if the electricity subsides now, can he _possibly_ get away with minimal or no brain damage? You say it's like the electricity is burning out the receptors. That's like saying it's burning out his brain, isn't it? Is this going to be permanent?"

"I just don't know yet." Carson answered with a heavy heart. "I've never seen anything like this before."

Just then, a nurse beckoned for Carson's attention and the doctor left John in Elizabeth's capable hands.

"John," Weir took Carson's advice and at least tried to comfort Sheppard. "If you can hear and understand me, please know that you're not alone. We're all here for you. You're never left alone, if we can help it. Your team has been on a rotating schedule to sit by your bedside. Even many of the military contingent and other personnel on the base have signed up for shifts." Elizabeth squeezed John's hand more tightly. "Rodney's combing the database to find more about this artifact in particular. He swears he found out everything he could about the planet, but maybe there's something about this particular ZPM…if it _is_ a ZPM. It sure _looks_ like one, but it certainly shouldn't have done _this._ We're reluctant to have anyone else try to take it out. We have a team of scientists, wearing protective gear, on the planet studying it from a safe distance. So far, they have found nothing useful."

Weir fell silent and just held John's hand for a while. Teyla eventually came in for her shift of 'John-watching', so Dr. Weir squeezed Sheppard's hand tightly again and left him alone with his team member.

John used his considerable down-time to speculate on why the pressure in his hand kept fluctuating. It would leave altogether, come back, increase and lesson again; all in no particular pattern. When he tired of trying to figure it out, he let sleep claim him one more, hoping that he could feel something else when he woke again.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

For almost 24 hours straight, Rodney had been combing through any file that might have any _hope_ of mentioning the strange Zed PM. He was reluctant to leave John's bedside, but had finally done so, hours after they had brought him in, when Elizabeth argued a few points. She had pointed out that the major had other friends who wanted to sit with him and that maybe Rodney would do better to eat something and get some sleep, so he'd have strength to sit with John again later. She had stopped short of making it an order for Rodney to 'take turns', trying to appeal to Rodney's better nature. When that didn't work, she and the scientist reached a compromise. Rodney would leave John's side for a while, but be allowed to work on finding something that might help before getting any sleep. Since he was leaving the infirmary anyway, Rodney didn't need to be convinced to eat.

Weir had stopped by the lab 12 hours later to find Rodney metaphorically elbows deep in files. Zelenka had stayed awake with him for most of that time but was slumped over his computer, sound asleep, when Elizabeth arrived. The Czech jumped at her suggestion that they both get some sleep. Rodney had bargained for another two hours, hoping that Elizabeth would be too busy by then to come back and check. That's exactly what had happened.

Dr. Weir didn't make it back to the lab until another four hours had passed, and refused to believe Rodney when he said he had taken a short nap. He didn't look in the least bit rested. In fact, he looked like shit and she told him so. He tried to bargain for more time but she was hearing none of it. She had him escorted to his quarters by security and threatened to have Carson sedate him if he was back in less than four hours.

The scientist waited until the security guard left (since the man was confident that the exhausted scientist would offer no flight-risk). Rodney was back in the lab inside a half an hour.

Currently, he felt he might finally be on to something. There was a locked file, hidden under layers of encryption, buried in an obscure folder that looked promising. It spoke of a few circumstances where the Lanteans had encountered negative reactions to their Zed PM's.

A few were just lab accidents of some sort, some involved Zed PM's that had been unknowingly damaged prior to installation, but this last file…this one looked promising.

It spoke of a planet whose magnetic field had interacted badly with the Zed PM installed in the central hall of a newly built outpost on an unnamed planet. There had been several other Zed PM's installed in more remote locations of the outpost to power the machinery the Lanteans had brought with them. When they plugged Zed PM's into their respective consoles, all hell broke loose. At the time, the Lanteans had no more idea what had happened than the Atlantis Expedition did now, but the more Rodney recovered of the file, the more it looked like the same phenomenon.

The people who plugged in the ZPM's were thrown against the walls and when they woke up, there was no indication that they had any connection with their surroundings. That is, the ones who _did_ wake up. Many were killed instantly.

When the Lanteans realized that the accidents were caused by a surge of energy from the planet itself at the moment the ZPM was plugged in, they sent another team to retrieve the ZPM's and recover the rest of the machinery, preparing to abandon the outpost until a solution could be found. They theorized too late that the same power surge would also occur when the ZPM's were taken out. Apparently any change in energy output negatively affected the Planet's natural EM field. The last few ZPM's were abandoned and the file on the planet was buried in the hope that no future Lanteans would bother with that planet.

Rodney was pretty sure now that they were talking about the same planet, so he took special note of any data pertaining to the men and women who had been caught in the EM spikes. The description of each patient mirrored John's current condition. Over half of those not instantly killed, died later anyway. The ones who didn't, might as well have. The Lantean doctors noted (as Carson had) that the electrical output in their brains had increased across the board. They studied the patients for various amounts of time – the longest one for over 2 years – and while the electrical output slowly lessened, it never returned to anything approaching normal. The patients themselves never seemed to regain any ability to interact with their environment. Eventually, all the families of these patients asked for their 'suffering' to be terminated.

The opinions of the Lanteans had been split on the issue of just how 'aware' these patients might have been. One faction thought that they were totally cognitively aware, but that the extra electricity in their brains was preventing messages from their senses from getting in, as well as any message from their brain to their body from getting out, effectively trapping a healthy mind inside a useless body.

Another faction thought that the electricity had very nearly literally fried the patient's brain, and they were no longer self-aware at all – in other words, the patients were the equivalent of 'brain dead' even though the Lantean's version of an EEG still showed plenty – too much – electrical energy present.

Rodney downloaded the pertinent files to take to Carson, and seriously wished he had found this information – or even knew to look for it – before he had pushed for the mission to that God-forsaken planet. He couldn't help but think that he was personally responsible for the brain death or total entrapment of his best friend. McKay was beginning to hope for the 'brain dead' scenario. The thought of John being trapped inside a body that would never again be able to respond – in even the simplest of ways – to its environment, was just too much for Rodney to take.

John woke again, and this time could immediately feel the weight on his right hand. He consciously tried to return it, but couldn't tell if he was actually successful. The weight on his hand didn't change – as far as he could tell – so he figured he probably _hadn't_ been able to move his hand at all.

He tried to call for someone – anyone – and noticed that he could feel a buzz in his throat even if he wasn't trying to scream.

Improvement! Okay, he could handle improvement – They weren't big enough or happening fast enough to really suit him, but they _were _there, so that was good.

The pessimistic side of him couldn't resist pointing out that these improvements – even small as they were – could stop at any time, and he'd be stuck like this forever.

"_Great, John," _he chided himself, "_Way to stay positive."_

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

"There's no way in hell that we're going to euthanize John!" Rodney had long since gotten up from his chair in the briefing room and was now pacing like a caged animal. He'd taken the file to Carson, who had read it thoroughly and then had taken it to Elizabeth. She had then called a meeting of John's whole team – just to impart information – but it had quickly fallen into a bitter debate about 'quality of life.'

"He deserves an honorable death," Ronon was the self-imposed leader of the pro-euthanasia camp, "Not consigned to years of lying there in that bed, wasting away, not able to respond to a damned thing – not _knowing _a damned thing."

"We're not completely sure he _doesn't_ know anything, Ronon," Teyla was trying her utmost to stay neutral and keep an open mind and had tried to play devil's advocate to both sides – just to ensure that every possible contingency had been well thought out before any decision was reached – not that she expected a final decision of any kind tonight. If she was honest with herself, though, if it ever became apparent that there was _no hope_ of John regaining something resembling a normal life, she would probably decide to come down on Ronon's side. Both natives to the Pegasus galaxy had endured hard lives by Earth standards. With the constant threat of the Wraith, this kind of situation hadn't often presented itself, but she had personally seen some of her injured villagers jump into a Wraith culling beam rather than to slow their families down or tax limited resources by caring for them. Teyla also recognized, though, that Earth was a very different culture in a lot of ways. People of Earth had the luxury of caring for its infirmed. It was a life style she wished her people had had the opportunity to evolve. She sympathized with Ronon's point of view, but cared too deeply for John to entertain the idea of losing him. She found herself torn on the issue.

"Everyone just calm down." Elizabeth had tried to be the peace maker throughout this entire meeting. She felt it was important to allow everyone to vent their thoughts (strong and controversial though they might be) but to try to maintain some decorum. "We're nowhere near making those kinds of decisions."

"We're not going to make _that_ decision _ever_!" Rodney was livid on behalf of his friend.

"First of all Rodney," Elizabeth addressed the scientist calmly. "I have had the opportunity to read John's emergency documents. He _does_ have a living will on file, so _if_ Carson, at some point, _far_ down the road, could _confidently_ declare the major 'brain dead', we would have no choice but to honor John's wishes and terminate heroic measures."

"You can't seriously…" Rodney interrupted.

Weir continued, "_But,_ if I understand Dr. Beckett correctly, a _confident_ diagnosis of 'brain death' isn't likely. The electrical impulses in John's brain are actually _too_ active, _not_ inactive. So, unless that changes drastically, I don't really think we need to worry about that."

Rodney looked satisfied at that; in fact, he looked 'smug' as he looked at Ronon, but it was the Satedan's turn to be livid. "That's a technicality! You're going to let a good man – who has been active _all_ his life – waste away, completely immobile, just because you can't _prove_ brain death?"

"Ronon," Elizabeth began, just as calmly, "Even the _Ancients_ didn't know whether or not these people were still self-aware. If there is even the _slightest_ chance that John is still in there, or even the barest _hint_ that his condition might improve, then we're not going to give up on him!"

When no one spoke up, Elizabeth decided it might be a good time to give them all some time to sort their thoughts on all of this. So far, everyone was just reacting to bad news. She needed to provide time for everyone to calm down. "Meeting adjourned."

Ronon stormed out immediately. Teyla followed more calmly but called out to Ronon. As the Athosian neared her teammate, Elizabeth thought she heard Teyla suggest they go to the sparring room. Had it been anyone else on base, Weir would have worried about putting them in the same room with an armed, angry, Satedan. But, if there was anyone who could hold their own in such a situation, it would be Teyla.

Rodney lingered for a short while, fidgeting, and finally came out with a nervous, "Thank you."

"We _all_ want what's best for John, Rodney," Elizabeth pointed out. "We just have varying opinions on what that might be." Rodney nodded and Weir continued. "I need you to go get some sleep now. I'll make it an order if I have to. You've done all you can to help John right now. This situation shows every sign of being a long haul. You're doing _no one _any good by burning yourself out in the early days."

Rodney thought about protesting but was honestly too tired to even make a coherent argument for that decision, so he went quietly, actually planning on getting some sleep for the first time since this all began.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Days turned into weeks and John's status remained "controversial". He vocalized more often and seemed to have fallen into a pattern of sleeping (silence) and wakefulness (vocalizing).

The major had also started to move the pinky on his right hand (albeit infinitesimally) and actually opened his eyes a slit on several occasions. Any movement – no matter how miniscule – seemed to tire the man greatly, as he seemed to sleep shortly thereafter.

Rodney swore that John would move his pinky when the scientist tapped the man's hand just above that finger. Ronon swore it was coincidence. Carson had actually witnessed the event twice, but had also seen the major move his finger without a prompt, as well as fail to react to the prompt. As far as Beckett's medical opinion on the subject, the jury was still out.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

John didn't know how long he had been like this. He had long since lost count of his sleeping and waking periods, but, since he wasn't sure how long either of those were either (especially the sleeping part), there was really no way to judge just how much time had passed. All he knew was that it already _felt_ like _months_ and he was desperate for this to end.

He couldn't tell if he was making any progress in the outside world, but _he had_ noticed some, inside his own head. He still couldn't hear anything, but could now feel that his eyes were, indeed, closed, so he didn't know for sure whether or not he'd be able to see, if he could just get the stubborn things to open. He spent a lot of time, at first, trying to do just that, but he had had no luck.

Finally, he concentrated his efforts elsewhere. Since he could feel when there was weight on his hand, and when there wasn't, he decided to start there. At the very least, maybe someone would see it and he could eventually figure out a way to get some answers.

John had mastered making noise at what he _thought_ was a normal volume. At least he assumed he was really making noise – he could feel a buzz in his throat anyway. So, he made sure to do that for a while before he tried to move his hand – hoping that would signal to whoever was close that he was awake. If he could feel someone holding his hand, sometimes he would forego the vocalizing.

He soon gave up trying to move the whole hand and tried each finger separately. When he finally felt the little finger on his right hand move, he literally shouted for joy. He had no idea how that translated to the outside world, and he didn't really care! Who knew he could get so excited just moving his little finger.

After that, he worked on moving his finger just about any time he was awake. It took such a massive effort though that he major often slept for who knew how long after succeeding just a couple of times. It seemed like he had to fight past some force that was trying to keep him from controlling his body, and each time he triumphed over it, he felt ecstatic. His elation wore off quickly though, when he discovered that, try as he might, he wasn't _always_ able to move when he wanted to. He had no idea what was going on there, but he had no choice but to keep trying and hope he'd get better at it.

One day, while he practiced moving his finger, since he had felt the weight, something different happened. As time went by, he had noticed that the weight often increased when he moved his finger (someone squeezing his hand in encouragement, maybe?). But this day, he noticed that he felt a tap on his hand, just above the pinky. "_Okay, this is it," _he thought. He tried to move his pinky again, but he already _had _a couple of times and it tended to get harder each time until he rested for a while.

He finally managed, though. He felt a squeeze on his hand, and then another tap. John didn't know if he had another movement in him right now, but he tried anyway and managed – he thought – the barest movement. It must have been enough because the squeeze came again. Whoever was tapping must not have realized just how much effort this took, because the tap came again. This time, try as he might, he couldn't get the recalcitrant finger to cooperate and he fell asleep shortly thereafter. He had no idea whether or not the squeezing and tapping continued while he slept, but the major thoroughly hoped that whoever that had been wouldn't give up on him. He hoped that that little bit would tell them that he was in here, waiting for a way to reconnect.

* * *

Rodney had become convinced that John was moving his finger deliberately in response to his tap. It had been over a week since that first time, and it had happened often enough to give him hope. Ronon still refused to believe it, and Carson was still not sure, but Rodney was certain.

McKay took it upon himself to try to systematically teach John to respond _only_ when he tapped his hand. It wasn't hard to get more time at John's bedside. As the weeks wore on, fewer and fewer people wanted to give up their time to a situation that – to most – was starting to look like a lost cause. Teyla and Ronon had accepted assignments with other teams and Elizabeth had offered the same opportunity to Rodney. The scientist had turned it down flat. The only reason he had ever been on a field team was because of John. If the major couldn't be in the field, Rodney didn't want to be either. He worked his shifts in the science labs – and continued his usual brilliant level of contributions (in his opinion) – but he spent most of his free time trying to reconnect with his lost friend.

The first stage of his self appointed teaching task was to let John know – somehow – that the spontaneous movement was getting in the way, so when John started moving his finger for no apparent reason, Rodney placed his hand firmly over the patient's – stilling the finger – and then tapped the major's hand. It took just a little while before John got the idea but it took some time for Rodney to pick up that his friend tired easily, so they didn't necessarily end those first sessions on a very hopeful note.

As time went on, John was able to move his finger in response to the tap fairly consistently, but he also still moved it at other times. Even Elizabeth – who, next to Rodney, was probably John's biggest supporter – had to admit that getting movement in response to a tap after the major had already started moving it _prior_ to the tap, could still be coincidental. Nevertheless, Rodney was able to convince Dr. Weir to at least try it when she sat with John. She agreed that it could do no harm, so she started to do just that.

Over the next week or so, she formed a hypothesis. John seemed to start moving his finger (and actually now it was the last _two_ fingers on his right hand), if someone was holding his hand, but if there wasn't anyone there, he started vocalizing. Elizabeth theorized that he was doing this to get the attention of whomever might be close. He might figure that he didn't need to vocalize if there was someone right there, but _did_ if no one was holding his hand, since he'd have no way of knowing how far away someone might be. This would insinuate that John could feel them holding his hands. Elizabeth liked this idea, but to be completely honest, he sometimes moved the pointer on his _left_ hand, too, and no one held that one due to all the monitors on that side. Back to the hypothesis, Weir wasn't sure if it took more energy to vocalize than to move his finger, but, when she thought back, the vocalizing actually came first. She decided to get another opinion.

"I'm not convinced that he's doing either _one_ deliberately, Dr. Weir," Carson answered her question.

"But, if he _was_, Carson." Elizabeth urged, "Would the vocalizing likely take more energy, or is he just saving that because he doesn't want us to hear him more than necessary, or maybe because he's not exactly sure that we can hear him?"

"I can't speak to intention. Physically speaking, since he seemed to vocalize almost right away, and the finger movement came later, I'd say _that_ is probably what takes more energy, or at least that it required more healing for him to move his finger, than to vocalize."

"So there _is_ healing?"

"Oh, yes," Carson actually got a little excited at this. "In fact, I was just examining the latest results of the scans. There has been a slow, but steady decrease in the electrical activity over the weeks since he was brought in. If I compare the last scan with the first…" he moved to the monitor and did just that.

Elizabeth gasped and Carson continued, "…there's a marked improvement."

"That's _great_ Carson! Is that why he's moving a little more now?"

"That seems likely, but, of course, I can't be sure."

"Wouldn't it stand to reason then, that if there is so much improvement, maybe he really _can _think more easily and can start to bring his body back under his control?"

"It's possible," Carson agreed, "and I hope that's true, I really do. But I have no idea how much damage was done to his brain by having this much abnormal activity for so long. Also, the movement could just be because the extra electricity is making him twitch."

"Like Epilepsy?" Weir asked.

"Yes. In fact, I've been baffled about that all along. With this much electrical activity in the brain, I would think he would have been thrashing around all this time. Then again, I've never seen readings anything _like_ this. With the more refined scans I've done, the electrical activity I'm picking up isn't really of the same type that I would expect to find in a human brain. So, we're in totally new territory, here. Anything is likely."

"So, it _is _possible that John knows what's going on and is trying to contact us." Elizabeth redirected Carson's attention.

"It's possible," the doctor confirmed.

"That's good enough for me. Rodney and I will keep trying to come up with some way to reach the major, and…"

"I would very much like to be involved in that, as well, Dr. Weir." Carson input, to Elizabeth's surprise. "The scientist in me sees _no _conclusive evidence that the major is in any way aware or trying to communicate. But, the friend in me hopes he is. And, if he is, we _have_ to find a way to connect with him…or even more importantly, a way for _him_ to connect with us.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

John was getting frustrated…again. It hadn't taken much time for the major to realize that whoever was tapping his hand wanted him to move his fingers in response. So, he did that. But, it was just the same thing over and over. Tap, move, tap, move. John wanted answers! And he wasn't getting them this way. So, he tried to tap out a message using Morse code. He wasn't sure who – if anyone – actually knew the whole code, but he figured that most people would catch the "S.O.S." signal (Well, except for Ronon or Teyla), and maybe that alone would alert someone to what he was doing and they could look up the rest of the code.

John began to think that either it _was_ one of the Pegasus Galaxy natives holding his hand, or not as many people recognized the start of an "S.O.S" as he thought. He specified 'start of' in his own mind because as soon as he got one or two taps out, someone put their hands over his, stilling his fingers. "_Okay!" _John griped internally. "_I get it! Move only when tapped, but let's go__** past**__ that already! __**Please**__!"_

To his pleasure, he found that he could actually move some more of his body. He thought he opened his eyes a couple of time, but he _almost _hoped he _hadn't_ because he hadn't seen a danged thing. "_Worry about that later," _he told himself. "_Communication first_."

Moving his eyelids consistently seemed to be out of the question. Moving fingers – yes actually two or sometimes even three fingers – on his right hand was useless because they were almost instantly stilled and his hand-holder started playing the 'tap-move' game. So, John continued his search for something else.

He _finally_ found that he could move the pointer on his left hand. He had no idea _why_ he could only move certain parts (there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to what he could move and what he couldn't), but he was going to try to take advantage of it. He started his "S.O.S." on the left hand.

* * *

Ronon spent most of his free time in the gym or in his room. John had always been his gateway to any social activity. Left to his own devices, the Satedan chose to be by himself, now that John was no longer there. He sometimes felt he was betraying his friend by not being by the man's side, (and especially by accepting assignment on another team) but he was a man of action and there was no action to be taken on John's behalf. He couldn't stand to see his friend lie there, with no control of his body, and no means to communicate.

Also, McKay was often in the infirmary with the major, and Ronon just didn't want to get into another fight about quality of life. Ronon never backed down from a physical fight (and the scientist sometimes made him so angry that it might very well, at some point, _become_ physical), but he couldn't stand up to Rodney in a battle of words, and he had learned from John that some such battles are just futile and should be avoided if possible. So, Ronon usually just stayed away.

His friend was _always_ in his thoughts, and he made a point to keep up on any new developments. But, for the time being, at least, he felt it was best to keep busy and keep away.

* * *

McKay was getting discouraged. The communication attempt didn't seem to be going anywhere, and John still got tired so easily that Rodney had a _lot_ of time sitting beside his friend's bed with absolutely nothing to do. He didn't want to leave his friend, though. At the very least, John seemed to acknowledge when someone was holding his hand, and if the only thing Rodney's presence did was assure John that he wasn't alone, that was enough for the scientist.

Still, he had a nagging feeling that there was something he was missing about his friend's condition. He linked his laptop with the Atlantis mainframe and continued his research in the infirmary. He had already obtained all available data from official files, so he decided to try a new tactic…he looked in the personal files of the friends and family of those original patients. Most were just the distraught ramblings of people who were at a loss to help their loved ones. But McKay finally found an interesting one.

It seemed that an elderly scientist, who specialized in EM field generation, was the father of one of the young men who had been affected. The older man did some research on the electrical impulses in his son's brain and found that it had more in common with the EM pulses emitted by the planet than anything usually found in the human brain. He had a theory that was considered outlandish by most of the other Lanteans, but one from which he could not be dissuaded. Rodney pored over each entry made by that man, and found himself hoping more and more that the Ancient scientist had been right. When Teyla came in to sit with John, Rodney excused himself and went off in search of more information.

* * *

When Teyla had some down time, she liked to spend it with John. She had reluctantly joined another field team because just sitting at the major's bedside, with no way to help, was making her feel useless and angry. So, she joined the other team – temporarily, she hoped. But, as they passed the one month mark, she was beginning to think she would never be on John's team again.

This day, as she sat beside her friend, holding his hand in hopes that maybe he would know someone was there, she noticed that he was moving his left pointer finger. She expected the movement of the fingers on his right hand and she had been told that he sometimes moved a finger on the other hand, but had never seen it herself, so she watched intently for a while. She was finally about to look away when it dawned on her that the movement seemed to have a pattern. Three quick movements, three slower ones, and three quick ones again. A long pause and the pattern repeated. She watched another four repetitions go by before she called Carson. By the time the doctor had gotten there, the finger had stilled, and the major seemed to be sleeping.

"You're sure that's the _exact_ pattern you saw," Carson seemed to be excited, though Teyla, herself, wasn't sure what to make of the development.

"Yes, exactly." She answered.

Carson dashed off to call Weir, but shouted over his shoulder, "It's Morse Code!"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: Have you seen the news article about the man who had been in a coma for 23 years but who had been aware the whole time? It reminded me of my story. At least poor John didn't have to suffer for quite that long.

Part 8

It had been a long day and Elizabeth was _finally_ preparing for bed, looking forward to getting some much-needed rest, when her comm. sounded.

"Oh, great," she thought, "There goes sleep," but out loud she answered, "Weir."

"Doctor Weir!" It was Carson's voice, "You might want to get down here."

Only the fact that Beckett sounded more excited than concerned kept Elizabeth from panicking. "What is it Carson?"

"A breakthrough…" the doctor paused, "I think."

"You _think_?"

"I'll explain when you get here.

* * *

When Elizabeth walked into the infirmary, she noticed that Teyla was seated at John's bedside and Carson was busy setting up a computer station nearby. As far as Weir could see, there wasn't much change in John's condition. He was quiet and his fingers weren't moving, so she assumed he was asleep.

"What's up Carson?"

"Oh, Dr. Weir," Beckett seemed to be genuinely startled, so absorbed had he been in his self-appointed task. "Thank you for getting here so quickly!"

"Has something happened?"

Carson picked up on Weir's concern so was quick to assure her, "Something good, I think." Seeing slight impatience on the leader's face, Beckett continued. "Teyla noticed a pattern to that left hand finger movement John does. We think…well, I think, because how would Teyla know really? I mean, she noticed the pattern, but I figured out what it meant…what it might mean…what I _think _it means. Not like I'm trying to take credit or anything, because it was really Teyla who…"

"Carson." Elizabeth stated simply. "It's been a _really_ long day."

"Oh, right," The doctor flustered. "The pattern that Teyla noticed seems to me to be an SOS… Morse code."

"Really, Carson?" Of all the things Elizabeth thought the doctor might say (or was afraid he might say), this wasn't even on the list. "That would be great!" She turned her attention to Teyla. "You know Morse Code?"

"No," Teyla answered forthrightly. "I really wasn't sure what, if any, meaning to attach to the pattern, but I thought it was significant that there _was_ a pattern. Of course, he only repeated it a few times after I noticed there _was_ a pattern, so I guess it _could _still be a coincidence."

Elizabeth was still riding high on the _possibility_ that this was a communication attempt on John's part, and she wasn't really ready to concede that it might be coincidence, so she changed the subject. "Carson, what is this you're doing here?" She gestured toward the computer next to the bed.

"I set up a laptop here, and found a simple program that would show us the whole Morse Code, so we can figure out what John is trying to say after we let him know we got his "SOS", and will let us figure out how to say what we want to say to John."

"Do we know for _sure_ that John even _knows_ the whole code?"

The conversation pretty much went downhill from there, and John showed no signs of trying to join it anytime soon.

* * *

Everyone was talking at once…again, and Elizabeth used her command tone, one more time. "Let's keep something resembling order here, shall we?"

Teyla and Carson, who had only been talking to try to restore peace, stilled immediately, but the real culprits kept at it. Ronon and Rodney had been at each other's throats – yet again – since Elizabeth had starting the briefing. All that she had managed to tell them was that they had reason to believe John had finally communicated with them, and she was trying to get the meeting under control so the details could be explained.

"Gentlemen," Weir insisted, "This isn't getting us anywhere." Once things were quiet, finally, Elizabeth continued. "No one was 'right' or 'wrong'. Everyone formed their own opinion based on the knowledge they had at the time and with their interpretation of John's best interests at heart. It's time we put all that behind us and come up with new plans to help John."

Both men nodded, and Rodney even managed to look a little contrite. The meat of the briefing could now get underway. Carson explained Teyla's discovery and about the computer set up now beside John's bed and the discussion started about what to do with that knowledge.

"First of all," Elizabeth started, "I guess we need to know if John actually _knows_ Morse code, or if he just knows SOS, like most people. I checked his service record, but it's not exactly something that shows up in official reports, and it's not like it's a required skill."

"Yes! He does!" Rodney answered. "I _knew_ that! Why didn't I think to use that?"

"Rodney, don't beat yourself up. You were doing what you thought you needed to do. I _agreed_ with that. Let's just go from here, okay?"

Carson tried to redirect the conversation and to lighten the mood at the same time. "How do you know John knows Morse code?"

"He told me. Said he used to spend the summers with his grandfather, and one of the best friends he ever had lived next door. Their bedroom windows were right across from each other. John said he and Toby…that was the kid's name… took half a summer trying to come up with a code they could use with flashlights so they could talk to each other after they were supposed to be in bed. John's grandfather … who wasn't supposed to know about it, mind you … finally told them to just use Morse code. Even bought them a book. John said he never forgot it. He always said you never know when that kind of stuff would come in handy." Rodney genuinely smiled for the first time since this whole thing began. "I guess he was right."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9:

Everyone crammed into the space beside John's bed – Teyla, Ronon, Rodney, Weir, Carson, all the nurses who weren't busy elsewhere and just about any of the other base personnel who were off-duty. Atlantis was a reasonably small base and it didn't take news of any kind long to get around. _Good_ news traveled twice as fast. Elizabeth figured she'd let everyone see a bit of John's first conversation, and then would shoo them all off to allow the man some privacy.

Just as the impromptu meeting in Weir's office had ended, one of the nurses called from the infirmary to announce that John was awake again. It hadn't taken long for the meeting to shift to John's bedside. Carson made a big show of setting up the laptop and program, even though it was clearly already ready to go. It seemed like everyone was trying to decide who should be the first to 'talk' with John after all this time.

Sheppard had started vocalizing by this time, and Elizabeth knew that someone needed to step up and let the man know someone was there, so she scooted to his side and squeezed his hand. Everyone in the room quieted, expecting the 'big conversation' to start, but Weir just enveloped the injured man's hand in hers and simply said, "Rodney?"

It was the only time Elizabeth had ever seen Rodney even come _close _to looking humble. He slipped up to the bedside and replaced Weir's hands with his own. "Okay," he whispered. "Here we go John."

Completely unaware of the drama unfolding, John started moving his left pointer in his "SOS" signal. Rodney didn't waste any time. He tapped out the entire SOS signal on John's right hand. The major's left hand stilled instantly and he began to vocalize. Everyone in the room took this as a 'shout for joy', and they shouted too. Rodney squeezed his friend's hand and whispered, "I'm so sorry it took so long, John."

* * *

'_Oh finally,' _John thought, '_did I really feel someone return the SOS? Is this really happening? FINALLY? Oh, please don't let this be a dream.'_ John shouted for joy and felt his savior squeeze his hand.

* * *

Rodney took the initiative and used Morse code to tell John who was talking to him.

'_Rodney,' _John thought. '_Of course it __**would**__ be. He knows I know Morse code.' _John signaled "W.H.A.T…H.A.P.P.E.N.E.D."

"Z.P.M," Rodney answered, "H.U.R.T… B.R.A.I.N"

"P.E.R.M.A.N.E.N.T." John had no way to express that this was a question to which he desperately hoped the answer was 'no' and not a statement.

Rodney looked at Carson. He had been verbally spelling everything either man had said, so the doctor knew what the look was really asking.

"I don't know, Rodney." Carson sincerely hoped he could give _any_ other answer. "I just don't know. This certainly seems to show a lot of progress, so there's hope that his condition might keep getting better."

In the meantime, John had starting moving his finger again. "R.O.D…" McKay patted his friend's right hand until the man had still his left.

"W.A.S…A.S.K.I.N.G….C.A.R.S.O.N."

'_Well,' _thought John. '_That can't be good; if he had to __**ask.'**_

In the interim, Rodney had started to answer. "N.O.T…P.E.R.M." Rodney didn't spell this out loud, but Ronon could see the screen and what Rodney was signaling didn't seem to be matching up with anything the doctor had said.

"What are you telling him?" Ronon thought he knew the answer and he was livid.

"What he needs to hear!" Rodney countered. "I'm not going to tell this man, who has been trying so hard to be heard, that he's not going to get any better than this."

Teyla put in her thoughts, "Rodney, we don't know that he will."

"We don't know that he _won't_." Rodney was incensed. "I'm not going to…"

Elizabeth interrupted him and tried to be the voice of reason…again. "Rodney. It's not really fair to tell John anything but the truth as we know it. I don't want us to give up on him or give him _no_ hope. But I don't think we should give him false hope either."

Rodney still wasn't pleased, but he could see Weir's point. John was completely depending on the scientist right now for information, and it really might not be the man's best interest for Rodney to filter the data his friend is given.

Rodney patted John's right hand to get the man's attention. The major had gone on to signal something else, but the scientist had looked away to engage in the conversation going on in the room and had no way of telling John that. This was early days in communicating with John, but the Morse code was already becoming tedious.

"D.O.C…D.O.E.S.N.T…K.N.O.W…I.F…P.E.R.M…………….N.O.T…G.O.I.N.G…T.O…L.E.T…I.T….B.E."

John didn't answer for a long moment. It took a lot to understand long statements this way, and it took a while to figure out exactly what Rodney was saying. First, he had said it wasn't permanent, now just that he didn't want to let it be. After John thought about it, that sounded just like Rodney. If Rodney didn't want it to be so, then it just wasn't so. Sheppard was really glad he had a friend like McKay…not that he would _ever_ tell the scientist that.

"O.K." John finally answered. "G.O.O.D…E.N.O.U.G.H………………….F.O.R….N.O.W."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

It took over a half an hour to answer John's most basic questions and the major's responses got slower and slower until finally they stopped altogether. Carson told everyone to disperse and let Sheppard get some rest, but promised to notify Weir as soon as the patient woke up again. Everyone left with more hope than they'd had in a long while.

As everyone filed out of the room, Rodney murmured to Ronon, "I assume that puts the mercy killing argument to rest?" but didn't wait for the answer. Ronon wasn't really sure that it did. Not in his mind at least. If _he_ found himself in John's situation and was finally able to communicate, only to find out that he would most likely be trapped in a virtually useless body forever, he wasn't at all sure that the first words _he_ signaled wouldn't be "please shoot me." Of course, he wasn't completely sure that they _would_ be either. Not anymore. One of the many things he had learned from John was that the man simply did _not _give up. Not on his team, and not on himself. And Ronon had been thinking about that a lot throughout this situation. Was Rodney right? Would John think that Ronon had given up on him? The Satedan himself hadn't thought so. He thought his suggestion would save John needless suffering, still thought that maybe it would, but now he wasn't sure. He just wasn't sure. He had to work off some energy so he headed to the gym, but he vowed that as soon as he could get some time with a conscious John, he had a lot to talk to his friend about.

* * *

Rodney felt elated that he had gotten to talk to John, vindicated that John _had_ been in there all along. But he also still blamed himself for having gotten his friend into this situation in the first place. John could communicate a little now. That was great. But using Morse code was painstaking and slow-going. He couldn't be sure about John, but Rodney himself had been getting frustrated with the slowness of it all, with the fact that each question took so long to answer, but even more frustrated with the fact that many of the answers were "Don't Know". In fact, that answer was so prevalent that John himself soon shortened it to "DK". Rodney had checked with John (to make sure that's what he had meant by signaling "D.K." after yet another "Don't Know" answer) using their 'yes/no' system: one tap of his right pinky for 'yes', and two for 'no'.

They'd made a lot of progress really, in such a short time, but this form of communication would be beyond maddening if they couldn't short-hand it more, or better yet improve John's condition so that he had more options open to him. With that goal in mind, Rodney returned to his research of the Ancient engineer's personal diary.

The man, Theron, had studied the phenomenon for over a year; studied the recordings of the EM pulses given off by the planet naturally, studied how the pulses had changed slightly after they had plugged in the ZPM's, and again after the accidents. He had studied the readings of the electrical impulses in the brain scans of his son, Pyrrith. He couldn't abandon the hypothesis that the two readings were terribly similar, and that they must be connected somehow. The scientist tried for over a year to be given permission to take his son back to the planet. He wasn't sure, at first, what he thought would happen, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it would help his son just to be back on the planet.

Over the long months, the scientist convinced himself (but precious few others) that the electrical impulse now in Pyrrith's brain was an entity from the planet that had somehow been funneled through the ZPM. His theories were never accepted by the ruling council and the man was eventually laughed out of his post. He continued his research unofficially, as best he could, and even managed to smuggle his son to the planet eventually.

Rodney pored over this part of the report. He had half convinced himself that Theron was right and that if he could just get the kid to the planet, he would be fine again; which would mean, of course, if Rodney could just get John to the planet, _he'd_ be okay. His hopes fell when he read the scientist's next, distraught, entry. Something different had, indeed, happened once Theron took his son to the planet. The younger man started thrashing wildly, and just when Theron thought his son would die from a massive seizure, then Pyrrith stopped thrashing, opened his eyes for the first time in 18 months, and then died.

Rodney slammed his laptop shut. He had been so_ sure _he had found some hope for John. He really thought Theron was on to something. It made sense! But, taking Pyrrith to the planet hadn't worked, so there was no easy way to 'fix' John. He wouldn't give up on finding a way to fix this. He still thought the old scientist had something worth pursuing, but right now Rodney needed to be with John, even if it was just to watch him sleep.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

While Rodney sat with his friend, he ruminated over the data in Theron's file. He really thought the man had been on to something and, after the initial disappointment, he was starting to think that this data might still be used to help John. Somehow.

When Elizabeth came into the infirmary to check on John, Rodney told her what he had found in Theron's files and she was intrigued, despite the negative result. When Carson told them that it would probably be quite a while before John awoke, Weir called an impromptu meeting in Carson's office.

"Nancy," Beckett called to one of the nurses, "When John wakes up, tell him you're there and stay with him." The nurses had been clued in to John's way of communicating. In fact, many had been there to see the first conversation. "Oh, and send someone to fetch us, too. Would you?"

"Yes, doctor." Nancy confirmed and the three people involved in the meeting adjourned to Beckett's office.

Teyla and Ronon had been called off-world so, for now, it would be just the three of them. It didn't take long to fill Beckett in on what the Ancient scientist had to say on the subject. Rodney quickly accessed the files on his laptop and showed Carson the scans. The doctor seemed to be dumbfounded by the sheer _volume_ of information as well as by the content.

"So, what do you think, Carson?" Rodney was becoming excited again.

"What do I think about what, Rodney?" the doctor stared blankly as he answered a question with a question.

"What do you mean 'about what'?" Rodney responded with yet another question.

"I'm not trying to be difficult here, Rodney. I just don't understand what you're asking me." Carson headed off Rodney's tirade by continuing, "It's a very interesting spin to the data, but I'm not sure what we could possibly _do_ with it. It wasn't an opinion shared by anyone else and when Theron took the lad to the planet, he died! What do you want me to _think_ about?"

"But he opened his eyes first, Carson," Elizabeth joined in, "after eighteen _months_ of not being able to move at _all_! Pyrrith looked right at Theron before he died."

"According to the ramblings of a father who had inadvertently just ended his son's life. Of course he would grasp at _anything_ positive."

"So, you're saying you don't believe the young man opened his eyes." Elizabeth clarified.

"He may well have, at that, but it could have been because of a seizure that then killed him. It could have been … well, any number of things could have accounted for it. Or the man could have been mistaken."

"You mean Theron lied!" Rodney jumped in. "He was a scientist! He wouldn't have lied about something like that!"

"I literally meant that the man could have been mistaken." Carson clarified. "We sometimes see what we want to see when we lose someone dear to us, especially after so long an ordeal."

Rodney started to retort but Elizabeth stopped him, suddenly glad that Ronon wasn't here if McKay was reacting this extremely to _Carson. _"Let's say for the sake of argument that Pyrrith _did_ open his eyes; did look right at his father with recognition. What could have caused him to die at just that moment and not before he was taken to the planet?"

"Coincidence?" Carson put in.

Rodney started to react, but Elizabeth said, "We're brainstorming, Rodney. Any answer is acceptable. We'll debate the relative merits of each later. Let's say, for now though, that it had something to do with the planet itself. What could that have been? Any ideas? Scientific? Medical?"

Rodney became thoughtful. "Theron's notes would suggest that there was an entity in Pyrrith's brain that had the same, or at least similar, EM field as the planet."

"So, what then? _More_ of the 'entity' entered his brain and killed him?"

"Or, maybe less." Carson speculated, "If we're going to assume it's an entity, maybe it left when it got back to its home, killing the host in the process."

"Host? Like a goa'uld?" Rodney queried. "You think this entity is parasitical?"

"Brainstorming, Rodney," Weir reiterated. "What _else_ could it be?"

"A benign entity that left and that _accidentally_ killed the host – I mean Pyrrith."

"I didn't say it killed him on purpose Rodney." Carson insisted. "I think we're saying the same thing, here."

Elizabeth redirected. "What else besides an entity of some kind?"

Rodney thought for a second. "It could just be the EM pulses from the planet somehow. The sensor readings from before they plugged in the Zed PM's was different, just slightly, from the ones taken afterward. What if maybe some of the energy was transmitted somehow to the people handling the ZedPM's. Maybe it was funneled _through _the Zed PM's at the moment of the power surge. And when the young man was returned to the planet, maybe the pulses just , I don't know, _resonated_ somehow with what was in Pyrrith's brain, and pulled that energy back out…or something."

"Can EM pulses even _do _that?" Carson asked, in all seriousness.

"I don't know." Rodney was deflated. "I've never known them to. But we're in a distant galaxy, and I can't figure out how to help my friend, and I'm clutching at straws." Then to Elizabeth, he asked, "Why does it even matter _how_ it worked, if it _did_ work?"

"You've got a point, Rodney," she admitted. "Okay, let's come at this a different way. What do we _know_ about the differences in Pyrrith's death on the planet, and all the other deaths?"

"Most of them died right away, according to record," Cason answered "Most likely due to such large amounts of energy entering their brains."

"They were essentially electrocuted." Elizabeth stated for clarification.

"Essentially."

"So why didn't the rest of them die?" Elizabeth put in but quickly added, "Rhetorical question. I know we don't know. Speculating right now on this point won't really help."

The two men nodded and Rodney made another point. "Okay, differences. Pyrrith moved before he died. _None _of other ones did. Not at all. Pyrrith didn't either until he went to the planet."

"John's moving and didn't go to the planet," Carson resumed his self-appointed role of devil's advocate.

"I've been wandering about that, actually." Elizabeth put in, "_Why_ can John move? Maybe the real question here… or at least one of the many questions here…is 'what's different between John and all the others.'"

"_That_ I might actually have a good answer to." Rodney added. "In the original incident, multiple Zed PM's were in place. One in the central area and then one each in many alcoves and such around the outpost. By the time we got there, there was only one…that we found. There may be a few others. The Lantean's reports said they abandoned the last few. Anyway there were _quite_ a bit fewer. Maybe it's just a matter of magnitude. The more Zed PM's to channel the planet's energy, the more 'damage' to the brain. The energy seems to be planet-wide, so there's no reason to think that it couldn't tie the power of the Zed PM's together."

"That's as good a theory as any, I guess," Carson agreed.

Just then a nurse came into the office. "Nancy says to tell you that the major is awake."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

John awoke, once again not having realized he had even fallen asleep. '_Damn,'_ he thought, '_This is like trying to think through mud!' _He mustered up all the concentration he could find. '_Okay. Sensory awareness test number 'who the hell knows'. I'm going to wait on the fingers. I want to be able to talk to whomever might be there, but not quite yet. Feet? Still nothing. Legs? No. Hearing? Not unless it's just really quiet in here. Eyelids? Hey! They moved! Vision apparently is still out, though, unless it's really dark in here too. Mouth? Not that I can tell. Tongue? No. Head? Huh-uh. Wait. Smell! I hadn't even thought to check that before. Yeah! I can smell antiseptic! Hospital smell, but not quite as bad as a normal hospital. I never really noticed that the infirmary smelled like that. Okay, is that all to check besides hands? Not bad, I can live with that. Eyelids open and I can smell!_

_Time for hands. I can move all the fingers on my right hand! No thumb yet, though. Left hand – still just the pointer. Good enough though, now that I can 'talk' a little. Boy, I've never been so relieved in all my life. Morse code is slow, but it's better than nothing. Okay, here goes!'_

* * *

Nancy had brought over some forms so she could work at John's bedside and had been sitting there for what seemed like quite a while, when she happened to look up – and saw the major's eyes. He had flickered his eyelids open a couple of times before, but this time, they were completely open.

"Hey, Major!" The nurse stood up and leaned over John's bed so that she would be in his field of vision. "Can you see me?" Prior to the first communication session, no one had been completely sure if John could hear and just couldn't move in response, or if he was deaf. Nancy had chosen to believe the former and decided to talk to him out loud (in addition to the Morse code). John was gaining ground by the moment, so, at some point, maybe he _would _be able to hear, so she vowed to continue to talk to him, just in case. She would now do the same thing with John's vision – assume that he could see until proven wrong, even though there was no response as of yet.

Not long after John opened his eyes, he started patting all four fingers on his right hand. The nurse took that as her cue to use Morse code and tell him who was there, while she sent another nurse to get Doctor Beckett and company.

* * *

The three quickly agreed to end the spur-of-the-moment meeting for now, and went to visit with John. When they rounded the corner from Carson's office, they all got a shock. John's eyes were open. Rodney rushed to the bedside and tapped his own name on Sheppard's hand, being the self-appointed official communicator.

"E.Y.E.S… O.P.E.N" he tapped. John responded with one tap of his right pinky (yes), but then patted his whole hand again several times. Rodney commented, wishing he could put expression in Morse code. "M.O.V.E… H.A.N.D...G.R.E.A.T."

"S.M.E.L.L…N.O.W." John informed.

"H.E.A.R?"

"N.O."

"S.E.E?"

"N.O."

"G.O.O.D…U…C.A.N…SMEL." Rodney finally responded, but to himself, he thought, '_What the hell can we do with smell, John?'_

* * *

Rodney continued the conversation for a while, but didn't really know how much, if any, of his theories or Theron's research to tell John, so he didn't mention any of it. There really wasn't much else to tell him, and now, even though there was progress, Rodney was beginning to think that there might truly be nothing he could do to help his friend. Weir stepped up to talk to John, and Rodney gracefully – and somewhat dejectedly – excused himself from the infirmary.

* * *

Rodney might not have known what to do with the fact that John could smell, but others soon figured out all manners of things to do with it. As soon as Teyla got back from their mission and found out about the new developments with John, she gathered incense and scented candles and took them to the infirmary. Others had already brought in flowers, perfumes and potpourri. Still others had brought in cookies and bread. But, John said those made him hungry.

One of the nurses asked Beckett if she could try putting a small amount of different liquids on Johns tongue, using swabs, to see if John could taste. Carson's first reaction was a definite 'no', since they knew John couldn't always swallow the best, but the patient very much wanted to try, and since it was now clear that there was little or no decrease in his cognitive abilities, Carson saw no reason not to accede to his wishes under specific circumstances. Since John's jaw was lax and not rigid, and since they had the suction apparatus close by anyway, the doctor allowed it, but only by medical personnel at first, exercising the utmost caution.

Prior to this, John had had no way to tell whether or not he could taste anything. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him to check. Beckett told him he couldn't' be given anything solid and he certainly wasn't going to be able to eat that way, but just to find something else he could do was exciting.

At first, they tried strong tastes – lemonade, even pickled beet juice– just to see if he _could_ taste. They warned him first, that the taste might be bitter, and he suffered through it, just to satisfy everyone, but once they decided that 'yes' he could taste, he told them he wanted chocolate!

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13

Three days later, found John much improved. He could open and close his eyes at will. He could now move his thumb on this right hand, which meant he could start to grip things... not that that did him much good, since he still couldn't move his arm after he gripped whatever. He had actually started to swallow more often than not, and they had started giving him small bits of applesauce, and pudding. He could move more fingers on his left hand and could even start to move his head a little. But, each small improvement only served to remind him just how much he still _couldn't_ do…may never do again.

Meanwhile, Rodney just couldn't stand it anymore, and called yet another meeting in Elizabeth's office.

"We have to do _something_!" Rodney argued, yet again. "We have information that my help John, and we're just sitting here with our thumbs up our as…"

"Rodney," Weir interrupted, "Let's try to keep a little decorum here, shall we? We're all frustrated."

"_We're_ frustrated? How do you think John feels? We've got to _do_ something!"

Ronon finally spoke up. "You know, as much as I hate to agree with McKay..." Rodney gave the Satedan a black look, Ronon smirked and continued. "If it was me, I'd rather risk death than continue like this."

Rodney was appalled. "Wait? When did I join the euthanasia club? That's not what I mean."

"The only other person who was taken to the planet, died. Sounds like euthanasia to me." Ronon sat back and watched McKay seethe.

"Gentlemen." Weir was trying her best not to lose her patience with these two. "I'm sure we all know that Rodney is not suggesting that we put John 'out of his misery'. But Rodney, he's improving on his own. Why should we try something that has a chance…"

"A _small_ chance…" Rodney interrupted.

Weir continued, "a small chance of killing him, when we might just have to wait and he'll get better on his own."

"He can't see! He can't hear! He still can't move on a very functional level. He has _no _movement on his feet yet, let alone legs, so who knows if he'll _ever _walk again. I'm just saying we should at least give him a choice of something that may hurry along his recovery, instead of just letting him waste away until he's too weak to do anything _with_ the recovery when we finally do take him to the planet."

"We still don't know for sure that taking him to the planet _will _help his recovery," Beckett put in. "But I do agree with one point. I've been thinking about what happened to Pyrrith. That _may_ have had something to do with how long he lingered in a vegetative state. I'm sure they were doing all the exercises we've been doing with John to try to keep his muscles from atrophying, but lying there for a year and a half could have easily taken its toll. _If_ there was entity of some sort, or even some form of energy that had been in his brain for that long, it very well could have assimilated some of his bodily functions. If his body had gotten used to functioning with that energy there, and then suddenly it wasn't there any more, coupled with the fact that his body would have been very weak, the shock alone could have killed him. That poor lad had laid there for over a year. John is still under the half year mark. _If_ we ever decide to try this...and that's a big 'if'… it very well might be better if we do it sooner, rather than later. Despite our best efforts, John is already losing muscle mass which means his body is getting weaker, even if we can't quantify that with tests."

"But he's getting better." Teyla added. "Even if there _is_ an entity or something interfering with his brain function, doesn't the fact that he's getting better on his own mean that he's overcoming its effects?"

Rodney spoke up. "That actually could be good _or_ bad news. If it is an entity, and it's still in John's brain, as evidenced by recent brain scans, then it could be that it's dying on its own. Maybe there wasn't enough of the entity transferred, and it's too weak to survive any more on its own, therefore the energy is decreasing in John's brain and his own processes are starting to reassert themselves."

"That sounds good," Elizabeth commented, "what's the down side?"

Carson actually answered that question before Rodney could. "Instead of an entity dying and releasing John, it _could be_ that it's integrating itself even better into John's thought processes and bodily functions…that the decrease in energy isn't an indication that the entity is dying, but that it's taking over John's body more effectively…in which case, if we wait much longer, it could be so incorporated into John's normal life functions that it will be impossible to separate it _without_ killing the major."

Everyone sat around stunned for a moment, but Carson finally continued. "All that, of course, is based on the _assumption_ that there _is_ some kind of entity and not just residual energy from the accident. If we take that supposition off the table, then we're left with the very real possibility that the initial energy surge is finally just subsiding and John will very likely get better on his own."

"In other words, we're back to square one as far as knowing what to do." Elizabeth couldn't hide her disappointment. She, like everyone else in this room, would prefer to come up with a course of action that would help their friend, instead of just continuing to play this waiting game.

"I do still agree with McKay on one point," Ronon put in. "It should be John's choice. We should tell him about this option, along with all the theories and all the possible outcomes, and we should let him decide."

"I agree." Teyla added.

"I could live with that decision." Carson put in.

Rodney nodded, then said, "It's going to take forever to tell him all this, but I agree it should be his choice."

"All right." Elizabeth conceded the point. "We'll tell John about all this, and abide by his decision…" she looked around at all the nods, but continued, "..._unless _information comes to light that suggests the risks outweigh the potential benefits. I reserve the power to override anyone's personal preference if such action will obviously put that person's life in danger, or will endanger anyone under my command."

Ronon and Teyla just nodded. That sounded fair. Rodney frowned and Carson seemed to be neutral on the idea, but they all decided the next step at least, would be to fill John in on all of this and see what he had to say on the subject.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14

"Since John decided he wanted to try this, there are a few things I must insist upon," Carson addressed John's team and Dr. Weir before the upcoming mission to take the major to the planet. Weir nodded, so the doctor continued. "I'm coming along, as well as a med team and a full complement of resuscitation equipment. If anything untoward happens, we scrap the mission immediately and get John back to the infirmary. If that happens, I strongly advise that we not try again."

"Nothing like that is going to happen, Carson." Rodney replied, "The problem they had with Pyrrith was because they waited so long. His muscles were atrophied, and his body had become used to the energy in his brain. Maybe it was even keeping him alive somehow. When it left suddenly, his weakened body just couldn't cope."

"Maybe," Ronon snorted, "Somehow. Glad you're so sure of yourself, McKay."

"You wanted to do this too!" Rodney bit back, then resisted any further reply when he saw Weir's face. He could tell she had just about had it with the backbiting between him and Ronon since this whole thing had begun.

Carson spoke up in the verbal pause. "You don't know for sure that any of that is really what happened, and I want to be prepared for anything."

"You're right to be prepared, Carson," Weir agreed. "I concede to your medical wisdom. Take anything and anyone you think you might need. I want John to have this chance, since he decided to take the risk, but I want to reduce the risk as much as possible."

"John's muscles have atrophied some, despite our best efforts, but not nearly as much as Pyrrith's would have. It's still been under six months, not nearly as long as that poor boy's year and a half," Carson ticked off points in their favor. "I do agree with Rodney that the length of time before the attempt with Pyrrith may have put him at a larger disadvantage. If we're going to try this, now is certainly the time to do it."

"Is everyone ready to go, then?" Weir addressed the whole table.

"Let me get my med team and equipment together." Carson replied. "I'll be ready inside the hour."

"Okay," Elizabeth concluded. "We'll meet in the gate room in an hour." Everyone dispersed to various parts of the base. Rodney went to talk to John.

* * *

When the hour was nearly up, Beckett and Weir came to John's bedside. Rodney told his friend that the others were there and that it was time to go.

"R.E.A.D.Y.," Rodney meant it as a question and John must have realized that.

He tapped his left pointer once. "Yes."

Carson readied John for transport, and joined his med team and equipment in the gate room. John's team was already there, so with one more communication with John, they stepped through the gate.

As soon as they arrived, all hell broke loose. John started gasping and seizing, and Weir ordered Teyla to dial Atlantis.

"Wait," Rodney shouted. "We don't know that this isn't how it's supposed to work."

"How _what's_ supposed to work, Rodney?" Elizabeth responded. "We're not sure this isn't how Pyrrith died, either. We've never been clear on just what happened or what to expect, but this doesn't look good."

Meanwhile, John stopped seizing, but had also stopped breathing. Carson had him resuscitated immediately, and was monitoring his heartbeat. "His heartbeat is weakening," he told Weir, "But so far is still steady."

"It's your call, Carson." Weir announced as the gate whooshed open.

"Well, he's stopped seizing, and his heartbeat is holding steady. I'm not really sure what we're waiting _for, _but I guess we could wait for a little while." Carson responded, but John's pulse slipped a little more, "But we might want to keep the gate open, just in case."

What seemed like hours went by in mere minutes, while everyone on the planet metaphorically held their breath. Finally, John opened his eyes and began moving a little. Actually moving his arms _and_ legs. Just a little, and it didn't look like it was necessarily purposeful, but it was the first independent movement of those limbs that anyone had seen since the accident.

"Major?" Carson spoke out loud, and John actually turned his head. "Major, can you hear me?"

John's eyes scanned the faces until he caught Carson's gaze, and then the major actually nodded. Teyla caught her breath, Ronon nodded, and Weir just smiled. Rodney rushed to his friend's side.

"John?" Rodney couldn't believe his eyes when his friend transferred his gaze from Carson to him. "John. You can actually see and hear?" John nodded again, and grinned a little around the breathing tube. Rodney turned to Beckett. "Can we take that out?" John nodded his agreement to the idea.

Carson had been monitoring his patient's heart rate and it was actually getting stronger by the moment. "We can certainly try it." Beckett finally conceded.

Once the tube was out, John moved his mouth and tongue and grinned like a Cheshire cat. He hadn't moved his face for so long. He had to try speaking. "Thussssssy".

Rodney had no clue what his friend was saying, but couldn't stop beaming at the fact that he said _anything._ "You're gonna have to try that one again, John, but that sounded great."

John smiled, moved his lips a little and tried to lick them…no luck with that, though…and moved his hand toward his mouth with an ever so small movement at the elbow, but hey, it was movement he didn't have before and John was pleased. He did however really need them to understand him, so he tried again, slowly this time, with great deliberation.

"Thirssss – ty"

Ronon wasted no time tossing his canteen to Rodney, and now the Satedan was grinning just as much as everyone else. Rodney looked at Carson just long enough to get a nod from the doctor. One of the medical assistants raised John's head and upper body just a little and then McKay touched the canteen to John's lips. John swallowed the first sip or two, but then started to choke. Rodney jerked the canteen away as though it had burned his friend, and Carson scooted closer. After a moment John stopped choking and looked at the doctor.

"Do you want any more water, Major," Carson started, "If we take it really slowly, I think…"

"Laaa-tterr"

Carson grinned. "That sounds like a good idea, Major."

John looked at the open gate and asked, "Gggo hommme now?"

Weir answered. "That sounds like another great idea John. Let's go home."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

John was too keyed up to sleep. He could see and hear! It was a miracle. He couldn't quite get his mouth and tongue to cooperate as well as he'd like, but he could speak. He wasn't overly thrilled with the limited mobility he still had in his arms and legs, but at least he had _some_ mobility. His days of lying there, helpless and isolated, were over. He almost literally owed Rodney his life…owed him the better parts of life anyway. He had never given up, never stopped looking for an answer, and now one was found and John had his life back. The problem was, John knew for sure that if he ever _said_ any of that to his friend, the man would become even more insufferable than normal.

As if summoned by John's thoughts, Rodney bounced into the infirmary at that very moment. _The man literally bounced! _John thought. "_Okay, maybe not literally, but pretty damned close!"_

"Hi" John managed.

"Do you know how great that is to hear?" Rodney asked, truly awed.

"Grret to hear, gret to talk, gret to see…" John answered.

"You can thank me now," Rodney fired off smugly, but John saw through it. John saw McKay handle things the major would never have thought the man capable of, but he never handled serious emotional situations very well. For that matter, John decided, neither did he.

"You ne-ver shange. I gone for a cupple monsss and you turr into eeego-maan-i-ac."

"What you mean?" Ronon interrupted as he entered the infirmary. "He was _always_ an egomaniac."

"Oh yeah," Rodney acted hurt. "I see what's going on here. The two warriors reunited against the scientist."

"Damned straight." Ronon agreed as he clasped John's forearm. For the first time in months, John could at least come close to returning the grip.

* * *

Everyone in Atlantis was in high spirits. John was much improved, and Rodney was sure he'd be 'back to normal' before the end of the week. He had put all of his hopes in the fact that just taking John back to the planet would magically, somehow, fix his friend, and at first, it looked like it had worked. John came back able to see, hear, speak, and move. Surely everything would just keep getting better until everything was back to normal.

It didn't take long to realize that that wasn't going to be the case. Not exactly.

The doctor performed multiple tests as soon as John got back, and the scans looked pretty good, comparatively. The massive amounts of energy were gone. Other tests would suggest that his neurochemistry was back to normal, but the scans also showed residual damage to various parts of the brain. Nothing that should be insurmountable, but things weren't just going to go back to normal without a hell of a lot of work on John's part. And, physical limitations weren't the only problems the major was left with.

* * *

Several hours after he got back, John could feel his strength ebbing. '_At least __**this**__ time I can __**tell**__ I'm falling asleep,'_ John thought.

The infirmary was darkened and there were only a few nurses on staff, but someone always stayed reasonably close to John. The major was much improved, but Carson didn't want him to be alone, so he planned to keep him close for a while. As it worked out, that was a good thing.

The silence was abruptly broken when John started screaming and thrashing around. "No, no."

"Major. You're alright. You're in the infirmary." The nurse tried to soothe, while John continued to thrash, but didn't seem to be waking up.

Carson burst out of his office as soon as the commotion started. "John," he said firmly. "You need to wake up now. You're in the infirmary. You're okay. Wake up, John."

John finally calmed down and looked around. He was relieved to see that he was in the infirmary. _Who am I kidding,"_ John thought, _"I'm just relieved to __**see**__!"_

"You were dreaming, Major." Carson explained.

"Night-marrr." John slurred. "Last several monsss a night –marr."

Carson patted his patient's hand. "I know son. I know the last months have been a nightmare for ya."

John just nodded and needed to change the subject. "Have ice cream?"

"Sure, John," Carson replied. "You can have some ice cream."

One of the nurses rushed off to get some. "Chocolate, right?" She giggled when John smiled like a kid on Christmas, and nodded.

* * *

Two weeks later, there was little improvement. John could speak a little more clearly, and a little more fluently. There were sounds he still didn't manage well, but he'd come a long way as far as speech was concerned. Everything else was still pretty much where he had been when he first got back to Atlantis. At least it felt that way to John. He had improved on the use of his arms, he could move his legs more purposefully , and he could sit up in bed more easily, as long as he was propped up well, but there were still many things he couldn't do, and he was getting frustrated.

Rodney walked into the infirmary just as his friend used his newfound arm control to empty a myriad of what the major called "toys" off the tabletop tray in front of him. Carson had ordered a series of exercises to help John with his fine motor controls – puzzles with large pieces, putting balls in holes, etc. John hated them and he wasn't getting much better and frustration was turning into anger.

"What's going on John?" Rodney rushed to his bed.

"These damned toys! I hate 'em. I'm not a kid! I hate 'em and I'm not gettin' bet'r!"

"John. Look at how much better you are now than before we took you to the planet. I thought you'd be happy with all the progress. You were ecstatic over just being able to taste chocolate not too long ago. So it's taking a little longer than we thought it would. You're still going to get better." Rodney consoled.

"No I'm not Rodney." John calmed a little but looked at his friend with a broken expression that just about broke McKay's heart. "I'm glad you found the notes 'bout the planet. I'm glad I'm so much bet'r than I was b'fore. But I thought I'd be back to norm'l by now."

"Yeah," Rodney hung his head. "That's probably my fault. That's what Theron expected for his son, so that's what I expected for you. In hindsight, I guess it wasn't very realistic. That entity, or energy, or whatever it was, was in your brain for a long time. It stands to reason there would be lasting – but still temporary – consequences.

John pounded the mattress. "I 'ave to conc'ntrate to jus' talk right."

"We all understand you just fine John." Rodney tried to help. "So it's not perfect. We get it. We understand you. You speech has gotten a _lot_ better." McKay noticed he was losing John. "All the rest will get better too. You just need to hang in there, okay?"

"I still hate th'se toys." John grumbled.

Rodney looked at the nurse still sitting beside John's bed. "What's the point of these, exactly?" He asked.

"We're trying to help him with his fine motor control. The puzzle pieces and the balls and other shapes, have to go in the holes a certain way. He has to concentrate to get them just where he wants them."

"But he can work on that skill in other ways, right?" Rodney clarified. "It doesn't have to be with these exercises, particularly, right?"

"Yes, I guess so, but…"

"Could you get me a pack of cards?" Rodney asked and the nurse looked puzzled at the non sequitur, but returned moments later with a deck of cards. McKay reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the box of crackers sitting there. He opened a pack and handed it to John, keeping one for himself.

"If you could have anything you want – that Carson believes you can chew and swallow safely – what would you want for dinner?"

"Pizza?" John pulled his little boy face, but Carson had gotten there by now and shook his head when Rodney look to him for permission.

"How about something to drink, instead?" Carson put in.

"Beer!"

Rodney again glanced and Carson and the doctor just shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay." Rodney continued, "You win, you can have a beer with dinner. I win, you actually _drink_ the milk they usually bring with it."

"What are we doin' Rodney?" John asked wearily.

"Occupational Therapy!" Rodney started dealing out card. "Also known as poker!"

"How is that ther'py?"

"Pick up the cards," Rodney told his friend. "Put them in your hand, hold them all without dropping them, and then discard just the wants you _want_ to discard! Bet with the crackers, but you have to get them out of the pack yourself."

John looked to Carson for help.

"Sounds like therapy to me." The doctor stated as he started to walk away. He threw over his shoulder as he went, "Let me know who wins!"

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16

'_You know'_ John thought, as he sipped his beer, '_maybe this therapy stuff isn't so bad after all.' _As frustrated as he had felt trying exercise after exercise with Carson and the nurses to improve his motor control, the poker game, while frustrating at first, became comparatively effortless. _'Who am I kidding,' _John wondered, _'I'm not sure anything will ever be 'effortless' again, but it was kind of fun, and it did work on my motor control. Of course, I'm exhausted now, but I'll be damned if I'll fall asleep before I finish my hard earned beer.'_

For the rest of the occupants of Atlantis, Rodney's poker game seemed to break the dam. Prior to that, everyone visited John as often as they could, sat with him, talked with him (much more often now that 'talking' wasn't as laborious as the Morse code had been), but everyone had left him alone when Carson or the nurses decided it was time for therapy. He had been left alone with the staff members to work with the 'toys', to lift small weights, to use parallel bars to stand for mere seconds at a time (using his upper body almost exclusively). He had been left alone when the staff carried out his range of motion exercises, repetitious movement of his legs and endless sessions of 'push against my hand'. It just seemed to be taken for granted that these were things to be done by the professionals, people who knew what they were doing, people who would know how to maximize John's recovery, and know how not to hurt him in the process. It hadn't really occurred to anyone that they might be able to help, that even just having some company during those sessions might help John. After Rodney's 'therapy session', no one could keep John's friends away.

Ronon took John to the weight room, and had him work on the wall weights, while Ronon kept time with free weights, challenging John to do just one more rep, to handle just a little more weight. Teyla took John to the sparring room and worked on blocks with either just hands or with weapons. Both were seated, as John couldn't stand on his own yet, but the blocks, which worked through the full range of motion in his arms and trunk, worked on strength as well, and John began improving by the day.

Suddenly, he was never alone during range of motion exercises. His friends either did them themselves, or sat and talked with him while they were done. Suddenly, he was never alone at the parallel bars. His friends took turns being at the end, cheering him on, while the therapist held his belt. He graduated quickly to having small ankle weights and working his feet up and down, while sitting in his chair. Suddenly, he was gaining ground every day. He still got frustrated. He still wanted to heal faster, but now, it wasn't such a chore, and it was no longer a lonely journey.

Finally came the day that John both longed for, and dreaded. He was released from the infirmary, back to his own room. He still used a wheelchair for the most part, but could weight bare enough to transfer himself from his chair to other furniture and back. He had finally mastered dressing himself in loose sweats- with a tremendous effort, but at least it was independent – and could feed himself and move his wheelchair at just about any speed he wanted (with four wheels usually or two, if Carson wasn't looking).

Things were looking up, on the physical front, and John was pretty much fine, emotionally, during the day. Night was another matter. He hadn't stopped having nightmares even in the infirmary, and they just got all that much worse once he was transferred back to his own room. He'd wake up in the dark, silent room, screaming. He was back in that hell he had lived for months. He couldn't see; he couldn't hear; and until he woke up completely, he couldn't move. The sensation didn't last long, and as soon as he was completely awake, he could convince himself that that time was over, that he _could_ see, once the light was turned on, and he _could _hear, if there was any noise to hear, and he could definitely move more than he had in his dream. But, each time he awoke that way, the damage was done. He didn't want to go back to sleep…would do anything he could think of _not_ to go back to sleep.

He managed to stay in his room the first two nights, albeit with very little sleep. But, by the third night, he couldn't take it anymore. He went to the mess hall to visit with whoever might be taking a break during their shift. He'd visit Rodney in his lab if the scientist happened to be working late. He caught Ronon in the weight room a time or two, or took late night 'runs' with the Satedan (Ronon on foot, and John in his chair). '_No better arm and upper body exercise, if you ask me,' _John rationalized.

No one minded John's late night visits, and John never spent the evening with the same person too often in a row, so it took about two weeks for people to realize that John _couldn't_ be sleeping very much at all. It hadn't escaped the doctor's notice even that long, but he had prescribed sleeping pills for the major and had just assumed John had been taking them. He hadn't been. By the two week mark, after never getting more than two or three hours sleep most nights, it was obvious that John was losing ground.

"Well, _you_ look like shit," Rodney mentioned in his usual delicate way as he met John in the infirmary for one of his many checkups.

"Thanks," John retorted. "I decided I should make myself a little less devilishly handsome. It distracts the nurses."

Rodney snorted, but then redirected. "I'm serious John. You don't look well. Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Enough."

"How much is enough?" Rodney wondered aloud.

"ENOUGH!" John shouted. "I've got it under control. Just leave me alone about it."

"John…" Rodney began again, never one to drop a subject easily.

John dropped his head and his voice. "I'll talk to Carson about it if it keeps, up, okay?"

'_Yeah, maybe,' _Rodney thought, '_but will you actually do anything he says?'_ Rodney didn't say anything to John out loud, but vowed silently to talk to Carson himself.

* * *

A couple of nights later found John making the rounds in the middle of the night. No one was in the mess hall, Ronon and Teyla were both off-world with their new team (something that still galled John a little, but he understood the reasoning on a professional note). Most of the rest of the people he might want to visit were actually asleep. He had long since stopped going anywhere _near_ the infirmary when he couldn't sleep. That left Rodney. John had started avoiding _him_ at night too. If any of his other friends noticed the signs of sleep deprivation, they didn't mention it, or at least didn't harp on it like Rodney did. That's all the scientist wanted to talk about these days, and John didn't want to hear it. But, with everyone else busy or asleep, it was either check Rodney's lab, or go back to his room, and he just couldn't handle the latter idea. _'Rodney's lab it is then.' _John decided.

As often happened of late, Rodney was still in his lab. The scientist was working on some project or another. He had explained it to John in painful detail several times, but John hadn't really listened, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Rodney to repeat it. McKay looked up from his work as John came into the lab.

"Can't sleep again?"

"Just don't Rodney, okay?" John pleaded. "I just need some company. Can I stay here _without _a lecture, or do I find somewhere else."

"You're always welcome here, John; you know that." Rodney started. "I just worry about you. You're obviously not sleeping, and avoiding the issue isn't helping anything."

"I'm not avoiding anything. I'm just not tired. Can I stay or not?"

Rodney waved toward an empty spot at the counter where John could get his chair under the top and prop himself up if need be. "Of course you can stay."

Rodney returned to his work, and all but forgot about John being there, since the man was unusually quiet. Finally, he looked up to stretch out his back muscles, and noticed his friend sound asleep on the countertop.

'_Well,' _Rodney thought, '_At least he's getting some sleep. But he can't go on like this. Tomorrow, my friend, we talk to Carson, whether you want to or not.'_

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

Rodney went back to work, and let John sleep. It wasn't the best position for the man, but some sleep was better than none. John couldn't keep this up, and Rodney didn't know how else to help. Rodney kept half and eye on his sleeping friend, even while he, himself, worked, so when John finally started moaning in his sleep, Rodney was at his side in moments.

He laid his hand on John's head, and murmured quietly, "You're alright John. You're in my lab, and your _finally_ asleep. It's okay. You don't have to wake up, and you don't have to worry about anything." The sound of Rodney's voice seemed to calm the man a little, so Rodney decided to put on some music, just to see if it would help his friend continue to get some much needed rest. Rodney fell asleep in his lab hours later, too tired to continue to work, but too determined that John should continue to rest to wake his friend.

+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

The next morning, Rodney expressed his concern to Carson and the doctor made a mental note to confront the major about it later that day. As it so happened John appeared in the infirmary sooner than expected.

Ronon and Nancy, one of Carson's nurses, had been working with John on the parallel bars, but a combination of overexertion (John refused to stop when Nancy said he'd had enough) and lack of sleep, resulted in a bad fall. Whether John miscalculated a step or his legs just gave out, no one was sure, but he fell so hard and so fast that Nancy couldn't keep him standing. Ronon grabbed for him, but with the parallel bars in the way, only managed to change his friend's trajectory. As a result John landed hard on his left arm. By the time the trio got to the infirmary, John's arm was already swelling.

Carson ordered an x-ray immediately and thankfully the arm wasn't broken -badly sprained and would be bruised, but not broken. The doctor took this opportunity though to order another stay in the infirmary for John. During the day, the major could still do all of his exercises – as much as he could do with a now sprained wrist – and go about the rest of his business. But at night, Carson wanted his patient where he could keep an eye on him.

"No more late night runs, lab visits, or snacking in the cafeteria." Carson scolded.

John was secretly relieved. He had still had the nightmares while he had been in the infirmary the last time, but there had always been someone there immediately and he hadn't been nearly as afraid of falling asleep again.

"I want you to take the sleep aids I prescribed for you, and I'm going to set up appointments with Dr. Heightmeyer," the doctor continued.

"Carson, I don't think…" John started.

But Becket interrupted, "You probably should have been speaking with her all along. You seemed to be handling everything remarkably well, so far, so I didn't push it. But, this sleep issue is getting out of hand."

"I don't need a shrink!" John insisted.

"Doctor Heightmeyer is a psychologist, lad, not a shrink, and none of us are so strong we can't benefit from some help from time to time."

"Carson," John persisted. "I'm just having a little trouble sleeping right now. It'll pass! It doesn't mean I have to see a shrink." John saw the look on Carson's face and corrected. "A psychologist."

"John. I can make it an official order, if I need to." Carson tried gentle persuasion. "I really think it'll help, son. Give it a try, okay? What can it hurt?"

John thought about it for a moment. He finally decided that going to a psychologist couldn't make him look any worse to his friends than continuously haunting them in the middle of the night, just so he could avoid sleep. "Okay, Carson. I guess it can't hurt."

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

***Six Months Later***

"Hey Major!"

"John. Lookin' good!"

"Good luck today Sheppard."

Everyone John passed had something to say. Today was a milestone. John was back on duty and even had a mission. 'Okay,' he thought, 'So, I'm flying the puddle-jumper to the mainland to make a supply run to Teyla's people, but it's still a mission.'

There had been a time, not that long ago, that John was convinced he would never be useful again. After he started believing that maybe he could do _something_ useful, he was just sure that it would never be his old job. But, his friends (who included a good many more base personnel than he had ever thought) wouldn't let him give up. Between that support and his own innate stubbornness, he finally made it here – flying again.

His journey wasn't over yet, though. He still walked with a limp. Carson said that he might _always _walk with a limp. For some reason, his left leg was still much weaker than his right. It sometimes still gave out on him, especially when he was tired. John wasn't about to give up the thought of walking normally though. Elizabeth had seconded Carson's recommendation that John not be allowed off-world as long as his leg was still unpredictable. For now, he was grateful just to be flying, even if he was planet bound, but he had high hopes that he would continue to improve, and somehow get back to being a team leader. So, he was in the weight room most every day. Ronon was with him when he could be and when he couldn't, there were quite a few other people willing to be John's exercise partner. So for now, John walked with a limp…but at least he _did_ walk.

There had been drastic improvement in other areas as well, in the last six months. John had found that Carson was right. Talking with Dr. Heightmyer really did seem to help. He didn't feel he had to be strong around her, like he did around his friends. He didn't mind admitting to her that he still – somewhere deep inside – was afraid that _this _ was the dream…that he'd wake up back in that hospital bed, unable to communicate, unable to move or see or hear, unable to even _hope_ for any kind of better future. He was still terrified that all this progress would just evaporate when he "woke up". Obviously, he knew this fear was just that – fear, not reality, - but it invaded his dreams anyway and in the wee hours of the morning when he woke screaming he still found that he had trouble getting back to sleep. It happened a whole lot less often now, but it did still happen. So, he still had late night runs with Ronon, and after-hours lab visits with Rodney. But they were less frequent now.

This whole experience had brought John closer to his team and to many others on the base. Without this incident, he wouldn't have known just how much everyone on the base was willing to do for him, how much everyone admired and respected him. If he had had the choice back on that first day on the planet, he would have chosen to skip the whole thing, but, since he hadn't had that choice, he was willing to look for all the silver linings he could find. The friendship of so many people on the base, as well as the increased closeness with his teammates was big silver linings. He might not have exactly his own job back but was it was close – damned close – and his progress wasn't necessarily over, so it was still possible with everyone's continued support he would continue toward his goal of total recovery. Looking back, even when he had no way of knowing it, this was never a journal he had made by himself.

End


End file.
